Whiskey Lullabye
by AcaciaDawn
Summary: I recently watched North and South, and almost immediately I heard a song that made me think, what would happen if Margaret Hale had really wanted only to give John Thornton a business proposition? What if she really hadn't loved him? What if she had continued to live in Milton, but only to keep an eye on the property she now owned? This is my take on what might've happened.
1. Chapter 1

_**Whiskey Lullabye**_

_**Ch. 1~ Unfortunate Events**_

**Somewhere in Northern England, 2013**

Holy crap, how long could this night possibly continue to be? All she wanted was to be in the warm bed that awaited her and sleep off the infernal thing known as jetlag. Millie continued to talk all throughout the hours of driving. How anyone could possibly talk for so long and not be out of things to say, she would never understand. David was in the passenger seat giving Allen the look that said "Shut your girlfriend up before I do." She rubbed her temples, wondering if her head would explode before or after they got to the cabin.

"-I mean, really, how stupid could you get? You'd think she'd know that you do _not_ wear hot pink shoes with a navy green handbag. Don't you think so?"

Her head shot up, "Huh?"

"Have you been listening at all?"

"I kinda zoned after you started talking about how Shania's nose job looks like she got ran over by a Hummer."

"Well, it does. I'm not the only one thinking it." Millie turned her nose up at her friend's indifference to the frivolous social conformities she so eagerly enjoyed.

"Yeah, yeah, Millie, we get it," David's Welsh accent snipped. "You hate everyone else's sense of fashion. As if yours is any better though."

"David! I'm shocked to hear you say such things about me."

"Oh, c'mon, Millie, he's a guy. He doesn't exactly have to-" she was cut off by the semi-truck barreling into the driver side of car. She was knocked around a bit, thank God for seat belts. Then the tree hit her side. The resounding crash would have shaken her to the depths of her soul, even if she had been a hundred feet away. Everything went black for a moment…or it could have been hours. But, when she opened her eyes, she was met with the sight of Millie's bloody pulp of what used to be a body. "Millie? MILLIE?!" Her friend was dead…and so were the boys.

She smelled a gas leak, so she managed to kick the rear door open, and drag herself and her bags out of the car. Those bags were the only thing she owned in the world. Not twenty feet from the car, the sparks from the semi caught the gasoline leaking from under the vehicle she had just vacated. The explosion knocked her off her feet and threw her away. Her head gave a sickening crack as it hit a rock. She saw stars, the world was spinning, then she was floating…

Floating…

Everything was quiet…

Everything was peaceful…

Then she slammed back to the ground…

It all went black.

**Outside Milton, England, 1850**

He'd been drinking again. Luckily, he had had enough sense to get out of the house and do most of his drinking at a pub where he would not be known, even if it was a long ride back. It wasn't as if he were completely smashed, but there was enough of a buzz for him to be content to become a vegetable in the carriage he was using to get home. The gentle rocking of the carriage was almost calming enough to make him sleep…if not for the nightmares he knew would haunt him when he did. Suddenly, the carriage stopped.

"Driver, why have we stopped? We can't be there already." John Thornton said with his usual sharp tone.

"Sorry, sir. But there's somethin' in the road. I'm gonna have to move it." He sighed as the man got down and went to the dark mass just in the way of the wheel. "By the good Lord above!" the man exclaimed.

"What? What is it?"

"Tis a girl, sir. She's all bloody. Dear Lord, what…what do we do?" John got out and went to the man and what he now saw was a small woman in strange clothes with a few bags around her. "Sir?"

He knelt down and picked up her wrist (which he noticed where bare) and checked for a pulse. "She's alive…barely. Help me get her to the carriage; we'll take her to my house."

A while later, he was leading the driver up the stairs to the sitting room where his mother and sister sat up doing needle work.

"John, what is the meaning of this?"

"We found her on the way back, lying in the road."

"Oh, my God!" Fanny quipped. "Is she alive?"

John gave his sister a dark look. She was such an airhead sometimes. "Yes, Fanny, she's alive. I wouldn't have brought her if she wasn't. Mother, we need to call Dr. Donaldson, do you think he'll come at this hour?" Hannah Thornton nodded and went to get her shawl. "Fanny, you stay here with her and have Jenny boil some water and rags. We'll need to get her cleaned up soon." With that, he left with his mother and the cab driver.

"Oh, dear. Poor girl. She must have had a terrible fright. Jenny!"

There was a voice, high and breathy, quite annoying in her mind. Another, softer, more subdued voice answered in words that were heard like those heard under water. The first sensation came in the form of pain. Pain everywhere. It was like she was being torn apart. But then, it quelled a bit as a gentle hand put a cool cloth on her face. Someone shushed her, like a mother would a sick child. The high voice was back, far too loud for her shock sensitive ears. She groaned, which quieted both of them.

"I have to get some more water, miss. I'll be back in jiffy," the quiet voice said.

"Oh, dear, oh, dear. Mother and John have been gone an awful long time. I do hope nothing's happened to them." She shifted, trying to open her eyes. "Oh, you're awake! Oh, that's good. Um, my mother and John have just gone to fetch the doctor." The woman spoke with a voice as if she were speaking to an old woman who was nearly deaf, in loud, halting words. "They should be back at any moment now. Don't worry, everything is going to be alright." Her accent was strange…like a mix between proper and cockney English.

The door downstairs slammed, making her head pound. Multiple pairs of shoes ran up the stairs, to the room where she lay.

"Fanny, what are you yelling about?" that voice…it sounded so…smooth like velvet, yet deep and resounding. It was a nice change from the woman who yelled in her ear.

"I was just reassuring her."

"Has she woken?" this one was a stern woman's voice, more like the man. Used to being heard and listened to. "Where is Jenny?"

"She went for more water. Well, I think she's waking up. I mean, she was turning over a moment ago, groaning like a dying person might."

"She could very well be dying, miss." A softer man's voice came closer. "She looks as if she's been through an explosion. Where did you find her?"

"Outside of town. She couldn't possibly have been in an explosion, there's nothing out there but trees and rocks."

She groaned again as she tried to get more comfortable. Where had that gentle hand gone? Maybe it would take all the pain away.

"Miss? Can you hear me?" she nodded slowly and painfully. "Good. I'm going to have to look you over, and I need you to tell me what hurts."

"Ev…" she swallowed; her throat was raw and dry. "Every…thing."

"Everything?" she nodded again. "Alright. Well, I'm going to check for any broken bones." After a few moments of prodding and checking her over, the doctor checked her head. He pulled the older woman and the man aside to speak in quiet tones as the woman with a gentle voice, Jenny, came back. She heard the door close and the pair returning to the room.

"Well? What did Dr. Donaldson say?"

"He said she may have a concussion. No broken bones, luckily, just a few small fractures in her wrists, from hitting the ground, probably. He said not to let her fall asleep for a few hours."

"Why not?"

There was silence for a moment. "Otherwise she might not wake up. Jenny, would you mind preparing a room for her?"

"Yes, Master Thornton."

"John, someone must stay with her. Fanny must be getting home, I have places to be tomorrow, and you have work in the morning. Jenny will be leaving to get home in a bit."

"I'll stay up with her, until it's safe to put her to bed. I doubt we'll be able to get her cleaned up and into a dressing gown until she's up and about. You go on to bed, Mother."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'll be fine. Fanny, you'd best be getting on. I'm sure William will be worried."

"Oh, yes. Thank you, John. I think that would be a good idea."

There was much shuffling and goodnights given. Until, finally, all was silent. She still hadn't opened her eyes, probably because one was practically swollen shut, and the other couldn't handle the light. Her head was pounding, and her body ached. Swallowing was difficult, and she could hardly move.

"Miss?" She turned her head to show she heard him. "How did you end up on the side of the road?"

"I-" she wheezed, "don't…know. Where…am…I?"

"You're at Marlborough Cotton Mills."

"What…town…am…I in?"

He found it an odd question, but one must humor the sick. "Milton."

She finally managed to crack open her good left eye, taking in the sight of a man in very expensive looking tails and waistcoat. Though his face was fuzzy, she could tell he was handsome. The only definite feature she could make out was the color of his eyes…they were a light azure color that popped out with the contrast of his dark clothes. "Water…please?" God, she sounded pathetic.

"Of course. Forgive me for not thinking you would be thirsty." He fetched a glass and held it to her lips. Despite the pain, she managed to sit up enough to drink.

"Nice costume. Going for a…Victorian gent…or something?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nobody wears…tails unless…they're going to a p…party. And…no one wears a…cravat at all." She coughed hard, a bit of blood coming up with the effort. He gave her more water to help her breath.

"You must have hit your head very hard indeed. Any gentleman would wear tails and a cravat. You must be from the lower orders."

"I thank you…not to make…assumptions. I'm pretty…well off for…"

"For? For what?"

"Sir?" Jenny opened the door.

"Yes?"

"Her room's ready, if it's alright to let her rest now."

"Thank you, Jenny. Help me get her up."

It took some trial and error, but they managed to get her up the stairs and into bed with little incedent. Except for her losing her footing on the top of the stairs and nearly bringing them all down, they made it there safely.

"I'll tuck her in, Master Thornton. You should go to bed."

"Right, of course." He left the room and closed the door. Only to realize something. "I didn't even ask her name."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Ch. 2~ Gentle Hands**_

The sunlight poured over her as the curtains were pulled open. It was warm, despite the usual smog that covered the city, and made her want to roll over and go back to sleep. Only she couldn't move, her body hurt too much.

"Sorry to wake you, Miss. The mistress said to let you sleep for a while, but Dr. Donaldson left you some medicine to help with the pain, said to give it to you around nine o'clock." Jenny bustled around the room, collecting the bottle and medicine.

"It's alright. I was about to wake up anyway." She groaned, trying to get up. "I hate to be a bother, but…"

"Oh, yes, Miss. Here, put your arm around me." The maid pulled her up gently, taking care of her numerous wounds. "I've got something to eat for you, before you can take the medicine."

"Yeah, bad thing to take on an empty stomach."

"That it is, Miss. C'mon. After you eat we'll get you cleaned up, yes?"

"Ok."

Breakfast consisted of a nice porridge and toast, with some tea on the side. "So, where is everyone?"

"Well, Mr. Thornton's gone to work in the mill, Madam is visiting friends in town, and the new Mrs. is probably out shopping."

"So, he still lives with his mother?" she scoffed quietly, "And forces his bride to live with her mother-in-law?"

"Bride? No, Miss. Mr. Thornton isn't married. The Mrs. is his sister, she lives out a ways, but spends most of her time either here or shopping in town."

"Oh…right." After she was done eating, Jenny led her to the bathroom to get clean. The girl seemed surprised to see the mark on her hip.

"Is it…costmary to…ink yourself, where you come from?"

"What?" she looked down at the rose cross that adorned her skin. "Yeah, actually, it is. Most women I know have one. Not this exact tattoo, but, y'know, what one does, so must the others follow suit."

"As is the way of society, Miss."

She lowered herself into the warm water, relaxing as the heat soothed her wounds. As Jenny cleaned her up, they made idle chitchat, letting her learn about the family and the mill where she was. She made up her mind to go strolling through it one day, when she felt better, though the maid counseled her not to. There were no dresses for her to borrow, so she just wore one of the outfits that were still in her bags. Then, Jenny had to run to the market for groceries, so she helped her set up the washing area. It was nearly five o'clock when she was finishing up her clothes which had been bloodied and covered in dirt. Oh, how much she loved being able to do something. She was lucky she wasn't closer to the car when it exploded, otherwise she might have been disabled. Lucky she had been able to think clearly enough to get out of the car, otherwise she might be dead.

"What are you doing?" that deep, commanding voice startled her from her work.

"Oh, hi. Um, I was just…cleaning."

"I can see that. Why?"

"Because my clothes were dirty, and needed to be cleaned." She went back to the washboard. "Look, I'm sorry about the comment I made about your outfit last night…I'm not used to seeing people looking like their from the 19th century."

"But I am."

Her hands froze. "That's impossible."

He came forward a few more steps. "How is it impossible? What happened to make you…like this?"

"I was in an explosion."

"So I gathered. But how? The place you were found was miles from anything that could explode."

"That's what I'm confused about. Because, when it happened, I'd just been in an accident, in which my three friends were killed immediately. Somehow, I got out. Then the car exploded and I was thrown back. The next thing I know, I'm waking up to the most annoying voice I've ever heard."

"Yes, well, Fanny can be a little hard to handle sometimes. So…how did your carriage explode?"

"Not carriage. Car….Which, if this is actually the 1800, you have no idea what that is."

"Which I don't."

"It's a horseless carriage, pretty much. It runs on this thing called gasoline, like a steam train runs on coal. The only problem is, it's flammable. The accident I was in, the semi that hit us was sparking, which caught the gas, which was leaking out of our car."

His face was contorted in confusion. "You must have really hit your head."

"I'm not hallucinating, nor am I making it up. This really happened. Somehow, if I'm to believe you, I've been blown into the past. Holy shit, I'm in Hell. That's what it is. I always wished that I had been born in a past time, because I thought it was better, so now, he's punishing me for not being grateful for what I had."

"You have quite a foul mouth for a lady. Then again, I suppose you're one of the lower orders, judging by your…actions."

She gave him a death glare, or as much of one as she could with a swollen eye. "And I'll thank you not to make assumptions. Just because I know how to wash clothes and swear like a sailor, doesn't mean I'm poor. Where I come from, even rich people dress like this. Give me a break, I'm stuck in Hell with an asshole who thinks I'm crazy." She stopped and thought for a moment. "So, what'd you do to end up here?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You have it. Now, how'd you end up in Hell?"

"Madam, despite what I wish, I am still alive and, therefore, not in Hell. I would greatly appreciate it if you would refrain from saying such things, as if you know anything."

"I know a hell of a lot more than you, I know that much. I went to college for psychology and music. So, not only am I able to read you like a book, I know I'm not in Hell, so this must all be real…as crazy as it seems. Oh, crimany, how the fuck did I end up in this situation?" She got up slowly and made her way to the window.

"What are you doing?!"

"Looking out the window."

"You're in your unders!" she turned to see him with his back to her.

"What, these? No, these are just clothes. Believe me, my underwear are even smaller." For some reason, she enjoyed the fact that what she said made him stiffen. "Every girl my age wears stuff like this, and some women who are way to old to be doing so, but want to feel young. Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud. Who shoved one up you ass and made you all stuck up?"

"I beg your pardon?!"

"Really? Ok, you have it…again. Anyway, yeah, I said it. You act like someone shoved a stick up your ass. All, stiff and courtly like that."

"You presume too much, madam. I am a gentleman and I act as such. You could do with a bit of propriety, yourself."

"I'm sure I probably could in your eyes. But, I'll have you know, I am the most proper person out of everybody I have ever met, up till now. I know how to behave." He gave her a look. "I do, I just choose not to."

"So, you would know which fork or spoon to use depending on what course dinner is on?"

"Yep."

"And you know how to walk with your head held high, and how to sit down without plopping down in the chair?"

"I most certainly do."

"And you know how to act around gentlemen and ladies of high standing, what to call them, depending on their standing?"

"I do. If I didn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Because, not only can I be a lady, I have a tendency to argue my point until the person I'm talking to sees things my way."

**John**

He was suddenly struck with a sense of familiarity, remembering another young woman who fought him at every turn. "Not everyone is always going to see things your way."

"I know that. But, there's no harm in trying."

"I think you're bluffing. All of your talk, of going to college," he scoffed. "No woman has gone to college. That's just one of those things they can't do."

"Oh? And getting an education is something only men do? Like fighting?"

"yes."

The girl chuckled. "Let me tell you something. Where…when I come from, women are fighting wars overseas. They're piloting ships and planes and gathering information just as well as any _man._ Don't let my size fool you. I could take you with one hand tied behind my back."

"And what could you possibly do to me with one hand?"

She smirked, "Oh, honey, you'd be surprised what a girl can do with only one hand."

Something about that statement made him flush. Suddenly, his tie was too tight, and his palms were sweating. Here she was, this small woman, beaten and injured, yet she was practically challenging him. "You would do well to begin acting like a lady, before my mother comes home and sees you in your unders."

"I _told_ you, they're not underwear."

"Well, then, at least put your trousers back on."

"Fine, _fine_." She went to her bag and pulled out some clean pants, having to sit to pull them on. "But I'm not finished with you. If you're gonna act like an inconsiderate ass, then I'll just have to beat some courtesy into you."

"And if you are going to act like a savage, then I'm just going to have to civilize you."

"Savage?" she got up and meandered over to him. "You ain't seen me savage yet, honey. Believe me, you know if you had." She tugged at his cravat, undoing it.

John grabbed her wrists. "This is highly inappropriate, Miss…" Wait, he still didn't know her name.

"Nicky. Everyone calls my Nicky."

"That sounds like a boy's name. What's your real name?"

"And why should I tell you? I don't even know your name."

"My name is John Thornton. And I saved your life. If it hadn't been my carriage that had stumbled across you last night, you would probably be dead by now. I think you owe me that."

They stood in silence for a moment. He was still holding her wrists, her fists rested against his chest. She searched his eyes, looking for something. "Veronica. Veronica Tehya Yepa.*"

"Well, Miss Veronica, this is highly inappropriate."

"Then why are you still holding onto me?"

He let go as if she had burned him. "Get dressed, my mother will be home soon, probably with many questions."

"I don't doubt it. You bring a random girl into your home in the middle of the night."

"I was trying to save your life."

"And I very much appreciate it." Nicky turned away to gather up her stuff. "Do you mind leaving while I change, then I'll go hang my clothes out to dry." John bowed his head and went to the door. As he closed it, he heard her mutter, "Ohanko Kachada.**"

This girl was so strange.

_**A/N: Just FYI, my Nicky is from America, so her accent is weird to them. Of course, most of us would agree that she is nearly unfazed by being thrown back in time, but I assure you, she is very upset by it, even if she doesn't show it, but that will come in later. Also, here are some little visual aids to what she looked like before and what she will look like after she heals up:**_

_**Dark reddish-brown hair**_

_**Hazel fox eyes**_

_**Tan skin**_

_**Face is about 50/50 between heart and square shaped**_

_**Full lips, not like Angelina Jolie full, more like Jennifer Laurence.**_

_**Dark eyebrows**_

_**About 5'6".**_

_***= Precious Snow Woman**_

_****= Restless White Man**_

_**These are just some random Native American names I found, thought they fit. You'll see why she knows them in a bit.**_


	3. AN

_**Hey guys, quick A/N:**_

_**To my lovely Guest who has pointed out some things, I know my summary and my story don't really match, but, I've never done a back in time fic before. Usually I write the story on paper first, then fix as I type. This story just kinda started flowing, so even I don't really know where it's going at the moment, but it will tie into the summary. For now, just assume that I do know what I'm doing and that it will all turn out alright. Just bear with me, and I will do my best to give you the best John Thornton/OC (which there aren't very many of, I might add). Also, I'm an American, so I don't know much about English slang, whether back then or now. My character is American, so yeah. The title does tie into the story, if you paid attention to what was going on when she was found, and it will continue to come up throughout the story, I'll make sure of it. This story will make sense.**_

_**On a different note, I'm starting college tomorrow, so my updates might start slowing down, but I will try to update at least once a week if not more. I love you all, keep reviewing. The more you say, the better the story will get.**_


End file.
